


Time Out

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Chance Meeting, Coincidence, Cunnilingus, F/F, Flirting, POV Third Person, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-20
Updated: 2010-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance meeting in a pub leads to a successful date. Set in 2008, after most of "The Eleventh Hour".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Out

"Let's," Amy says to Rory three weeks after the Doctor left them on the roof of the hospital, "let's just not. For a bit. Please? I need some time."

Rory looks defeated, the way he has a lot lately. He also looks sort of angry. "Fine. You — do what you need to do, stomp on my heart, I'll be here when you're ready to try again." He turns and walks out of her house, though she shouts after him. He doesn't look back.

"Shit," she hisses, sitting down heavily on the sofa. She buries her face in her hands.

Three hours and a lift from the postman later, she's on a train platform in Gloucester looking at her options.

London, she decides. Just for a bit.

The wall of noise hits her as soon as she gets off the train. She hefts her hastily-packed bag and makes her way outside.

The city is huge. It's loud. Amy slips into the crowd, anonymous for the first time in her life, no one to tell her she's crazy, no one to know her at all. She finds a pub and asks about rooms; they have a few free, and she pays up front for three nights. The bed is quite comfortable. She stretches out on it and switches the TV on.

Twenty minutes later she's downstairs, talking to a German couple who are doing a tour of England. She persuades them to at least see Edinburgh.

She wanders around after that conversation, until she finds a decent-looking restaurant to have dinner in. She sits in a booth, reading a book and sipping wine, until her glass is drained and she gets restless. On to another pub, she thinks.

The first one is too packed. She realises, as she finds a nice small one with actual room to move, that she's been walking for hours tonight and has no idea how to get back to the pub she's staying at. She decides to ask; it's ten thirty now, but she may as well have a drink before heading back.

She stands next to a tired-looking black woman at the bar. They're both ignored for the first five minutes of standing there, and Amy smiles at her. "What does a girl have to do to get served around here?" she rolls her eyes.

The woman gives a tight smile. "It took me forever to persuade Mum to come out," she sighs. "I shouldn't've left her." She glances back at a table, where an older, much more tired-looking woman is sitting.

"Listen," Amy says, "I'll get these. What are you and your mum having?"

She looks startled. "I'm not giving you any money."

"No, it's cool, I can get these. You can keep her company."

"No thanks." A weary half-smile. "You seem nice and all, but better not."

"Well, then the least I can do is this." Amy launches herself up the bar, hanging over it. "Oi!" she yells. Half the pub falls silent. "We've been standing here for five minutes," she continues, to the thunderous barman. "Some service would be nice."

He saunters up, visibly annoyed. "What'll it be, ladies?"

"White wine spritzer and a gin and tonic, please," the woman says quickly. She holds a tenner out. The barman grunts, gets her drinks, and takes the money. The woman gives Amy a small smile and a nod, and takes her drinks back to their table.

"And what can I get you?" the barman asks her, barely containing a sneer.

"A glass of red, directions to the King's Arms, and some civility." She smiles a charming smile. He grumbles under his breath, but she gets them all.

The only space to sit is next to the woman from the bar, so she smiles and tips her drink at her. She gets tired smiles back, from mum and daughter both, then they go back to their conversation. Amy sighs. She looks around the pub; small local place, clearly, with knots of what are most likely regulars sitting at the tables and playing darts and chatting to the barman. He laughs at something one of the guys he's talking to says, and he's actually not bad-looking when he's friendly.

"...the Doctor..."

She looks up. "The Doctor?" she asks, reflex. The two women at the next table stop talking and stare at her. "Sorry, um, I just heard you say the Doctor. You probably mean _a_ doctor, never mind. Sorry." She thinks about just getting up and leaving.

"You know a man called the Doctor?" the daughter asks. Her mum's face is paling.

"Yeah. Er. Blue box? Kind of erratic? Suit in tatters? Talks a lot of nonsense?"

"Tish, let's go," the mum stands up.

"No, Mum, wait."

"Tish, please." She looks close to tears. "I just want to go home."

Tish turns to Amy. "Sorry, we just — we've been through a lot, because of the Doctor."

"You _know_ him?" Amy gapes. It didn't really occur to her that the Doctor might know people. Normal people.

"Yeah. Sort of a bad subject." Tish glances at her mum, who is putting her coat on.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to — it's just, I'm sort of looking for him —"

"You'd voluntarily spend time around that man?" Tish's mum snaps. Amy blinks.

"Er — he saved the world. And I owe him a kicking."

"Sounds like the Doctor," Tish mutters. "Look, it's my sister you should talk to. Here —" she scribbles something down on a beer mat. "Tell her you met me. Leticia Jones."

"Thank you, Leticia Jones. I'm Amy Pond."

"Nice to meet you. We'd better go." Tish gives her a smaller, much more genuine smile. "If you do find him — well, just. Be careful. He could ruin your life."

"Too late," Amy says.

"Then good luck." Tish and her mum leave, and Amy stares at the beer mat in her hand. _Dr Martha Jones_ is written on it, and a phone number.

Amy follows the barman's directions back to her pub, and gets there just before closing time. "Can I use your phone?" she asks at the bar.

"Yeah, love, here." The barmaid holds out a handset. "We'll put it on your room bill."

"Thanks." Amy takes it and finds a secluded corner by a window to sit in. She starts dialling, then asks herself what the hell she thinks she's doing, ringing up a stranger at eleven at night. Then she thinks, well, this Martha knows the Doctor, she'll be used to weird things happening at all hours, and finishes typing in the number.

It's answered after four rings. "Hello?"

"Er, hello, is this Dr Martha Jones?" Amy asks. Her heart is pounding.

"Yeah, who's this?"

"My name's Amy Pond. I met your sister, Leticia — Tish, and your mum, and um, they said you knew the Doctor?"

The line is very quiet for a minute. "I know him," Martha says at last. "Do you?"

"Yeah. He disappeared and I'm looking for him so I can give him a good kicking. I think."

When she speaks, Martha sounds like she's smiling. "I know the feeling. Listen, can you meet me tomorrow for lunch? There's a cafe in Camden that does a good sandwich. We could talk."

"Yes, please, that'd be great." Martha gives her an address; Amy asks how to get there, so Martha gives her a bus number and directions from the stop.

Dr Martha Jones is absolutely stunning. Amy swings herself into the other seat at the table, setting her plate down and smiling. "Amy Pond?" Martha asks.

"Yep, that's me."

"Funny. The Doctor doesn't know an Amy Pond." Martha's smile has steel under it. "I texted him to check."

"You can _text_ him?" Amy goggles. "And he probably only knows me as Amelia."

"Wait a minute." Martha types something on her phone, then looks back up. "If he says he doesn't know an Amelia Pond either, I will need to know who you are and why you're trying to contact the Doctor."

"But — but he _does_ know me," Amy protests. Unless she really did dream it. Or make it up. Or something. She _didn't_, she knows she didn't, but ... no, she definitely didn't make it up, the _whole world_ heard that Atraxi thing and there were all the zeroes and Jeff won't shut up about the amazing speeches he gave the cleverest people in the world. Definitely didn't make the Doctor up.

There's a ringing sound, and Martha picks up the phone. "Doctor?" she says, and Amy immediately reaches out.

"Let me talk to him."

Martha shifts away. "Doctor, there's a woman here who says she knows you. Do you know an Amelia Pond?" She raises her eyebrows. "Thanks. Wait — it could be what? Erm. Red hair, Scottish accent, gorgeous, green eyes — okay, okay, I'll stop now. Right. Hang on." Martha covers the mouthpiece. "He's asking where you two met."

"He crashed his box into my garden and fixed the crack in my wall when I was seven," she answers. Martha relays it.

"Right," she says, and hangs up. "He said he doesn't know you yet, but he probably will in the future, so it's best he doesn't know any more."

"What? But it happened in 1996!" Then she covers her mouth. "Oh God, he can travel backwards in time, can't he?"

"And forwards. Sometimes sideways." Martha is eyeing her. She rummages in a pocket, then pulls out a photo. "This is him, right?"

Amy looks; it's a picture of Martha and a tousled-haired man standing on a red rock, the sky behind them purple. Something that looks like diamonds litter the rock face in the corner. "No, that's not him." Her heart sinks. Maybe there's more than one Doctor. "He was wearing a suit like that, all torn to shreds, and he has brown hair, but his forehead is sort of ... stronger. More protruding? God, that sounds unattractive. He's really not."

Martha nods to herself and puts the photo away. "Okay. I believe you."

"Is it a different Doctor?" Amy asks, realising that she's clutching the table.

"Sort of. It's complicated. You're in his future." Martha abruptly stops staring, looking down at the table. "Anyway. It's no good looking for him yet. He'll turn up when he does."

Amy slumps. "Does he always do that?"

Martha smiles. She's even more beautiful when her eyes light up. "Yeah, pretty much."

"I am going to kick him _so hard_," Amy mutters.

Martha laughs. "Do you live in London?"

"No, I'm just here for a bit. Getting my head sorted after ... well, after the Doctor ran out on me again."

"So you could do with someone to show you around, then?" Martha looks hopeful.

Amy swallows. She could be imagining it, but is Martha flirting? "Yeah, yeah I could."

"Fancy trying an Italian place not far from here? Say, tomorrow night?"

Amy leans forward, a flirty smile sliding into place. "Martha Jones, are you asking me out?"

"Yeah, Amy Pond. I am."

"Then I accept."

The Italian place is lovely, the food is great, and Martha tells her about the time she and the Doctor liberated cat people who'd been stuck in traffic for decades. "And there were _giant crabs_?" Amy is laughing. She can't help it.

"Shut up, it was really scary. I thought I was going to die." Martha's smiling, though. "Until I heard the Doctor."

"You fancy him, don't you?" Amy grins.

"Yep. You?"

"Hell yeah." Amy twirls some pasta around her fork. "Anything happen?"

Martha sighs. "No. He's — he wasn't interested."

"Is he gay?"

"I honestly don't know. Maybe a little bit. Who can even tell," Martha shrugs. "Why do you ask?"

Amy rolls her eyes. "Please. You? Interested in someone? And them not interested back? Got to be something going on there."

Martha starts smiling. Really, really smiling. "Is that a compliment?"

"You're observant. Well done." Amy finishes off her wine.

They go to Martha's place. They're barely in the door when Amy pushes Martha up against it, kisses her firmly. Martha immediately wraps her arms around Amy, opening her mouth and kissing back. Their tongues slip over each other, and Martha arches, and Amy starts tugging at her clothes.

"Bed. Now. Please." She tugs, tugs, and Martha leads her into the bedroom. They're pulling at each other's clothes, Amy whimpers, and Martha licks her neck. They're both down to bras when they fall on the bed. Martha yanks Amy's knickers down and wriggles down her body — "Oh fuck," Amy breathes, as Martha pushes her skirt up just enough and dips her head. Amy spreads her legs as far as they'll go and Martha's tongue touches her clit. Amy moans. "_Fuck_."

Martha's tongue circles her clit, contact too light, but when Amy thrusts her hips to try and get a deeper sensation, Martha holds her hips down. Amy groans, bucks, but stays put as Martha licks slow stripes up and down, catching the tip of her clit on each stroke. "Oh-h-h, _fuck_," Amy pants. Martha laughs, and the sound vibrates through Amy and oh _fuck_.

Martha keeps circling just a little too lightly, alternating with licking firm stripes up and down, until Amy has no idea what noises she's making. All she can feel is that wet incredible sensation, and then she feels something else — a finger, maybe, probably, _fuck_ yes — slowly thrusting into her, and it's not _enough_ and it's fuck so _good_. Martha's tongue suddenly circles _hard_, two fingers slip inside, and Amy comes.

"Holy shit," she exhales through the afterglow. "Wow. I — wow."

Martha grins a mischievous grin. "I'm not done with you yet," she says, and takes off her bra.


End file.
